


The Fine Art of Acting

by ErzsebethBatoriova



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canon Related, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Deception, Drinking, During Canon, F/M, Fluff, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Sex, Smoking, Unplanned Pregnancy, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 21:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErzsebethBatoriova/pseuds/ErzsebethBatoriova
Summary: It was assumed that Karen died due to alcoholism. However, everyone forgot what a great actress she truly was. This story reveals where she ended up years later.





	The Fine Art of Acting

**Author's Note:**

> I'm usually a stickler for canon but... I couldn't help but write this. I couldn't accept the vague fate of one Miss Karen Jones. She was too awesome to have a questionable outcome. This is the result of my own personal wondering.

** _1908_ **

Karen brought the glass to her nose and sniffed the rich, fruity contents within. She used to prefer the low-brow beers and hard alcohol whenever she was able to pop into the saloons. Sitting on the edge of the dock with her bare feet dangling above the gentle, relaxing waters of the Pacific Ocean, she welcomed the warm, salty breeze that brushed through not only her bouncy blonde curls, but the city of Santa Cruz itself. Ever since she came to live with her sister in California, she was eventually introduced to the “fine art” of wine tasting. That was, once she was able to clean herself up proper.

“I’m so proud of you, Karen,” her sister, Martha, gushed for what had to be the millionth time as she took a seat next to her on the wharf. “I’m sorry, I say that all the time, but it’s absolutely true. Ever since you left us, Mama and Papa were worried that they’d never see you again.” There was a pause as her sister savored a sip from her own wine glass. “Mmm… Bordò, you can’t go wrong… Anyway! God rest Mama and Papa’s souls, but if only they had more faith in you and that you’d one day come back.”

Karen said nothing as she indulged in her own wine. Martha went on and on about how Karen’s earlier life was spiraling out of control, how it seemed like nobody could tame her. When she ran away, the neighbors thought it was only by the grace of God they no longer had to deal with or hear about her wild antics.

_If only you had any real idea of what happened,_ Karen thought as she held her wine glass on her lap and gazed out at the wide stretch of blue skies. A lone hot air balloon drifted in the distance, and its passenger was in the process of taking pictures from such a great height. It reminded her of how quiet it was around here, much more so than the life she left nearly ten years ago.

Looking back, she often wondered what it would’ve been like had nobody died. Davey, Mac, Jenny…

_Sean…_

“Mama! Auntie!”

A young boy with shoulder length strawberry-blond hair and freckles splashed across his cheeks ran over to the two sisters. Dressed in overalls and a weathered white shirt, he proudly held up two bunches of grapes.

“Look at what Uncle let me have!” he boasted proudly. “I got to pick them myself!”

Karen couldn’t contain her own smile. “Well, ain’t that something? You gonna eat all of them or can Mama have one?”

The boy held out one of the grape bunches to her and said, “Because you’re Mama, you can have one all for yourself.”

“Done deal, darlin’. Thank you!”

Karen’s brother-in-law, Walter, was seen approaching, dressed all dapper as one would expect the owner of a winery would. His manner of dress actually reminded her of Josiah Trelawny, but trade in the flamboyant personality with a tendency to disappear at his own whim with a man who was down to earth and stayed with his wife. Martha stood and greeted her husband with hugs and kisses.

“I took the boy to one of our vineyards up north a bit,” Walter stated as he rested an arm around his cheery wife. “He seemed to have a grand time running through the fields and watching the harvest go underway.”

Karen snickered as she plucked a grape from the bunch presented to her and popped it into her mouth. “Sounds like he’s gonna have a future in the wine business, then,” she said between chews. “His mama will never have to worry about running out of anything to drink ever again.”

Her sister beckoned the boy over to her and her husband, where she announced she would begin to prepare dinner.

“I’ll follow in a bit,” Karen promised, then she handed her grapes back to the boy. “Can you put these in a safe place for Mama to eat later?”

The child nodded eagerly. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to them.”

“Why thank you, sweet pea! You’re as sweet as sugar.”

Little feet scampered across the wooden planks as the boy eagerly followed his aunt and uncle off to the shoreline. The family owned property not even a mile or so away from the beach. Their sophisticated home sat on a beautiful stretch of land that fortunately was not terribly affected by the devastating earthquake that ripped through the area two years prior. That was all Karen needed after leaving Dutch’s gang: escaping a life of debauchery and perpetual gunfire, just to fall into the cracks of the earth itself on the other side of the country. No thanks. She was glad she didn’t detour to San Francisco like she originally intended, and instead swallowed her pride and made the trip south to Santa Cruz to see her sister.

While Karen was the bold outlaw who could drink any man under the table and was armed with the vicious vocabulary of a sailor, Martha was the epitome of a lady: classy, elegant, and would flush at even a slip of a curse word. How these two came from the same woman was beyond anyone’s comprehension, but her sister’s life turned out typically more ideal. After Karen ran away, her sister stayed home with their parents, where she finished her schooling and eventually met and married a young, wealthy entrepreneur who had a love for wine. Go figure: Karen loved booze but it was her sister whom married into it. It was Martha and Walter who wanted children, but miscarriage after miscarriage dashed that dream. Hundreds of miles away, Karen was the one who accidentally wound up pregnant.

When Jack went missing and the Dutch van der Linde group was forced to pack up and relocate to the new location Arthur and Lenny scouted some time back, Karen knew something was wrong with her. At first, she chalked it up to being miserable over Sean’s murder. She loved him more than she admitted to anyone, especially to herself. A couple of weeks beforehand, they had sex after a wild bout of shouting and threats (all which came from her). Sean always claimed to love her fiery passion, even when she was ready to launch a beer bottle at him or straight up slap him. Unlike their first time together, Sean actually made her feel good. Whether he actually retained what happened during their first bout or not, he made sure that his endless enthusiasm rocked through her. It was as if he somehow knew that would be their last time with one another, and that he wanted to make this session meaningful.

_Mary-Beth would have had a field day with that last part,_ Karen thought with amusement, remembering her friend and her love for romance. She took a thoughtful sip of her wine as she remembered after the tell-tale signs of pregnancy reared its head, she initially wanted to seek the one person she believed could help her: Abigail Roberts.

Unfortunately, Abigail was too distraught over Jack (understandably so) that Karen determined it would be a bad time to impose anything on her. While Dutch, Arthur, and John (of all people) went to Saint Denis to search for Jack’s location, Karen and the women did their best to comfort Abigail. When she wasn’t throwing up or trying desperately not to think about Sean, she sat with Abigail in one of the large rooms inside the old plantation mansion. Located out in the swamplands, the murky smells did no favors to a pregnant woman, but she put on her acting façade and nobody suspected a thing.

The last thing anybody wanted to hear was another mouth to feed. She sure as hell didn’t want to have that disgusting creep, Micah Bell, to have any word on the matter. Like many of the others, she only tolerated him because of Dutch. After the death of Sean and Jack’s kidnapping, Karen made the decision to keep her pregnancy a secret. While she was seen drinking, she somehow forced herself not to get wasted. Oh, she’d been seen stumbling about every now and again, but she would always find a place to pour out the booze. She’d swish her mouth with the beer so the smell would still come off her. Even when Tilly and Mary-Beth spent time with her, the gals she considered her closest friends, she would make sure she wouldn’t drink much around them. It was only through a miracle that she even made sure that Miss Grimshaw didn’t pick up anything amiss. Karen experienced enough drunken tomfoolery to where she could act like a lush while being mostly sober and most importantly, without getting caught.

So much was going on with their group that nobody perceived her true situation. They certainly noticed how much “sloppier” she became with her appearance. With her generous curves and her preference for loose clothing, the small growing bump wasn’t conspicuous. The others always saw her going for the beer bottles they managed to continuously cart with them every time they relocated. She continued smoking every now and again, because she needed _something_ to calm her nerves if just a bit. The chaos that incessantly mounted aided with her deception. Pretending to be drunk and going off on the others was like second-nature. Being clean and doing so would’ve labeled her a nasty bitch, but if she were drunk AND a bitch? She was simply a drunk, nasty bitch.

At first, she wasn’t even sure WHY she made herself go through it all. She never thought about being a mother, even if society expected such a role for women in general. Mothering wasn’t exactly among her line of expertise, even if she adored little Jack and the way he referred to her as “Aunt Karen.” Acting, drinking, shooting, swearing, fucking – yeah, those she could do in spades. It was nowhere close to being prim and proper like Martha, but she enjoyed that life and the exciting dangers that followed. She could’ve been killed any time, but the confidence that grew from being in Dutch’s gang made her believe she could walk through hell and back, and not have a lick of fire burn her. Sean had that same confidence, and… well…

Then she understood why she wanted to keep the baby. She wanted something of Sean to survive, and she would be damned if anybody took that away from her. After Molly O’Shea was mercilessly shot to death by Miss Grimshaw, Karen decided that she couldn’t stay in that life anymore, not with a baby on the way. She had the worst screaming match with the matriarch of the group about love, how the old crone was nothing but a murderer. No, she wasn’t sure why Molly would do something as stupid as betray their group like that, but there was no turning back for Karen. Even with Arthur checking up on her, the emotions within her spread like wildfire. Molly, Hosea, Lenny, Sean… all dead. Who would be next? Not her baby, that was for damn sure. Nothing else could scare her sober at that point.

She didn’t say anything to anyone when she packed her things and slipped away into the night. Everything was only going downhill, and that wasn’t the life she signed up for. There were no more fun times, no more laughs—only uncertainty and death. She sometimes regretted not saying good-bye to Mary-Beth and Tilly; even Arthur deserved one because despite his rough nature, he always made sure to check up on her, like a concerned father. Karen only ever had an overbearing father who hit the hooch as often as she did later on. Still, she had to think of her baby’s future. With enough money for a train ticket, she decided to let go of her ego and return to the place she first abandoned in the name of freedom: her childhood home. The others would assume she died a hopeless drunk somewhere. It was for the best. She didn’t want anyone hunting her down. If the others were smart, they would also leave and not think twice.

Before she stepped onto the train, she wrote a letter to Martha to let her know that she was on her way. She was prepared to accept her sister not wanting her, because in that moment, she would rather be anywhere than with Dutch and his hang-ups.

Once the train arrived in California, Karen briefly reconsidered just heading into San Francisco. She remembered taking a couple of trips to the great city with her father as a child, where she marveled over the bustling businesses, the beautiful homes, and the people… oh, there were so many people! But lots of people in one place meant there was crime abound. The baby was growing bigger and she knew she couldn’t continue taking chances with her life. As easy as it was to slip back into the life she was so accustomed to, she couldn’t. Begrudgingly, she stuck to her guns and went on to her original destination.

Time passed effortlessly and once she entered the familiar county, any worries about Dutch and the others returned tenfold. She felt like shit because the rest of the gang was like family to her. The urge to drink hit her, because she wanted to stop the guilt from eating at her. Instead of caving to the booze, however, she decided to gorge on some peanuts she brought onto the train.

Martha was waiting for her by a carriage when she finally arrived at the station. With glossy blonde hair fashioned into a bun and dressed in a stylish top and long skirt, she was the high-end opposite of what Karen looked and felt like. Karen’s own bouncy hair barely contained much bounce these days, and the skirt she wore was tight at her hips and stomach. Her oversized coat hid the fact that her blouse was one string away from falling apart. Appearance aside, the sisters had the same green eyes, and Martha’s shone upon seeing her younger sibling for the first time in years.

“Karen,” she whispered as she ran over to her and threw her arms around her. She was mindful of Karen’s small but swollen stomach as she embraced her. “My god, my god, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Ta da,” Karen weakly replied as she gradually returned her sister’s embrace. “I have arrived.”

She couldn’t lie. Having someone hold her like this was welcoming. It was a much-needed reprieve. It solidified her new lease on life.

Months later, she was reminded of the fateful decisions she made, and how she was glad to have made them. Her water broke inside Martha’s home where she lived with her and Walter. Twelve hours of labor was no walk in the park, and during much of it, she thought how she’d rather be pulling off a bank heist or getting caught in the middle of a gunfire. When it came time to pushing, she actually screamed out Sean’s name and cursed him for putting her through this intense physical pain.

**_“You should be here, you stupid son of a bitch!”_** she howled after one hard push, causing the mid-wife that her sister hired to gasp and momentarily get flustered.

But through it all, she did it, and the baby was delivered into the world. After the clean up and the necessary tending to, the new arrival was wrapped and brought to the new mother. Karen was resting upon the many pillows propped against her backside. Martha sat beside her, crying for joy over what just happened. The mid-wife handed the crying baby to Karen, who, despite being tired, was almost fearful of holding her own child.

“It’s okay,” Martha urged sweetly as she helped position her arms so that her baby could rest comfortably against her. “Like this… See?”

Karen was unexpectedly quiet. Not because she was exhausted from all the work, but just seeing the baby that she carried in her for nine months, in spite of the light drinking and smoking, and he was… beautiful. Already there was a sheen of strawberry blond hair over his little head, a reminder of who his father was.

“That ‘son of a…’ you mentioned,” Martha carefully began, still unable to repeat any kind of swear word, “was he… the father?”

“Yeah,” Karen replied as she traced a finger along her son’s round cheeks. His crying ceased as his mother tended to him for the first time. It was a recognition, a connection between them. “His name was Sean MacGuire. A total spitfire from Ireland. He was killed some time back. He didn’t know I was pregnant.”

Martha gave her younger sibling a kiss on the cheek in response.

“I’m gonna keep that name going,” Karen decided, ensuring her voice was a low whisper now that her son was able to get some rest for himself. “My son will share his father’s name.”

“Karen, dear, I am so proud of you,” Martha whispered back. “You have nothing to worry about. Walter and I will do whatever it takes to help you and little Sean. We can’t have children of our own, as you know, but we’ll make sure to care for Sean. Family sticks together no matter what.”

Karen imagined the faces of Dutch and everyone who was left back in Roanoke Ridge. They were family to her, and ideally, family _should_ stick together… but blind loyalty could also drive a family apart. Dutch’s insistence of having things his way caused the loss of life for many of their own. Hell, even her own daddy should’ve known instead of smacking her and her sister around when they wouldn't do what he demanded. While Karen sister might’ve dealt with more abuse after she left home, there was more sincerity to her words, ones without any delusions wrapped around them like Dutch. After Hosea’s death, it became more evident that without his best friend, Dutch was lost. Karen just wanted to get as far away from that as possible; even if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, not all the alcohol in the world could help her cope with the downfall of their gang. Maybe she would have undeniably died from the drink. It was an outcome she shouldn’t allow herself to think about much longer.

True to her word, her sister took care of her and her nephew. Sean was a happy boy right from the start and was full of energy and mischief. Her brother-in-law doted on him like a son, but she often wondered about how Sean Senior would’ve done as a father. He couldn’t have been worse than John, who was late in the game when it came to actually accepting the fact that Jack was his. It would’ve been nice to have Sean with her when the boy first learned how to roll, how to sit up, how to crawl, walk… talk…

If everything turned out differently, Karen could easily see Sean taking bets from the others as to what his son’s first words would be.

_“C’mon, folks, put a dollar in the pot here for ‘Da’ and dollar in this one for ‘Mum.’ I’m tellin’ you it’s gonna be ‘Da’ but just MY personal preference!”_

Karen couldn’t believe how often she thought of the others and what they could be up to. Even with all the complaining she did while traveling with them, dammit, she loved them all--NOT Micah, but the rest of them, absolutely.

“Karen?”

Martha’s saccharine tone brought her back to the present. Without even realizing it, the blue skies had turned into shades of orange and yellow. Holy shit, she lost herself into her thoughts for that long?

“Talk about one hell of a wine,” Karen laughed as she finished the rest of her drink in one quick swoop before she allowed her sister to help her stand up. Their fingers clasped and they continued holding hands as they walked side by side to the carriage that Martha used to come back.

“This is what I wanna do,” Karen said as the coachman stepped down and opened the door for the two women. “When Sean gets older, I can take him back to meet his daddy.” After climbing into the stagecoach, Karen added, “You and Walter can come with us too? See some of the places where I got into some trouble?”

Martha’s face was aglow at the suggestion as she sat across from Karen. To be able to experience some of that wild life her sibling endured meant that she was being trusted to share that past. It would bring them closer together.

“I… think that would be a lovely idea, Karen.” Martha’s smile was undeniable. “Yes, when Sean’s older, let’s do this.”

The door was closed and minutes later, they were being driven back home.

There was no further regret for Miss Karen Jones.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm this close to writing an AU where everyone lives and Sean can be a dad to his mini me.


End file.
